Victor by Night | Finnick Odair

Tick Tock : 19

Chapter Nineteen

Finnick rejoins us, his fist full of Katniss's arrows still wet with monkey blood. He drops them beside her on the sand. "Thought you might want these."

"Thanks," she says.

I wade into the water and wash off the gore, from my weapons, my wounds. By the time I return to the jungle to gather some moss to dry them, all the monkeys' bodies have vanished.

"Where did they go?" I ask.

"We don't know exactly. The vines shifted and they were gone," says Finnick.

We stare at the jungle, numb and exhausted. In the quiet, I notice that the spots where the fog droplets touched my skin have scabbed over. They've stopped hurting and begun to itch. Intensely. I try to think of this as a good sign. That they are healing.

I glance over at Peeta, at Finnick, and see they're both scratching at their damaged faces. Yes, even Finnick's beauty has been marred by this night, but only slightly. Katniss has no facial wounds, but her arm is badly hurt, almost entirely covered in one big scab.

"Don't scratch," I say, wanting badly to scratch myself. "You'll only bring infection. Think it's safe to try for the water again?"

We make our way back to the tree Peeta was tapping. Finnick, Katniss, and I stand with our weapons poised while he works the spile in, but no threat appears. Peeta's found a good vein and the water begins to gush from the spile. We slake our thirst, let the warm water pour over our itching bodies. We fill a handful of shells with drinking water and go back to the beach.

It's still night, though dawn can't be too many hours away. Unless the Gamemakers want it to be. "Why don't you guys get some rest?" I say. "I'll watch for a while."

"No, Sage, I'd rather," says Finnick. I look in his eyes, at his face, and realize he's barely holding back tears. Mags. The least I can do is give him the privacy to mourn her.

"All right, Finnick," I say. I give him a kiss on the cheek.

I lie down on the sand next to Katniss and Peeta, who drift off at once. I stare into the night, thinking of what a difference a day makes.

How yesterday morning, Finnick was on my watch list, and now I'm willing to sleep with him as my guard. He saved Peeta, trusts Katniss, and let Mags die and I don't know why. Only that I can never settle the balance owed between us. All I can do at the moment is go to sleep and let him grieve in peace. And so I do.

It's midmorning when I open my eyes again, and it's from Finnick placing a ghostly kiss on my forehead.

Katniss and Peeta are still out beside me. Above us, a mat of grass suspended on branches shields our faces from the sunlight. I sit up and see that Finnick's hands have not been idle. Two woven bowls are filled with fresh water. A third holds a mess of shellfish.

Finnick sits on the sand, cracking them open with a stone. "They're better fresh," he says, ripping a chunk of flesh from a shell and popping it into his mouth. His eyes are still puffy but I pretend not to notice.

My stomach begins to growl at the smell of food and I reach for one. The sight of my fingernails, caked with blood, stops me. I've been scratching my skin raw in my sleep.

"You know, if you scratch you'll bring on infection," mocks Finnick with a shit eating grin.

"That's what I've heard," I say.

I go into the saltwater and wash off the blood, trying to decide which I hate more, pain or itching. Fed up, I stomp back onto the beach, turn my face upward, and snap, "Hey, Eero, if you're not too busy, we could use a little something for our skin."